


Good Things in Moderation

by TrashCompactor



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Froid being a self reflective narc, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Master/Pet, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sunder being gross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 22:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15672936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashCompactor/pseuds/TrashCompactor
Summary: They have a special ritual together. It's about restraint, both literal and figurative.-- --A mini ficlet I had running in my brain for a while. Enjoy!





	Good Things in Moderation

“Good. Good pet.”

Sunder’s optic lids drooped lightly from the praise. Had his orbs still been contained in his sockets, Froid mused, he may have watched them dim. Froid knew how easily he could work the mech up on the humiliation alone. Sunder’s jaw opened wider, and Froid sucked in a struggled breath at the wet, flat heat of a glossa rolling along the seam of his chastity panel. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to try a bit harder than that for me to crack.” He could feel the whine Sunder gave against his hip. It was part of a mental training exercise for Froid himself, to see how long he could resist the urge to pop open under duress from Sunder. “Again.” Froid cooed at the large mech between his legs.

Sunder mapped his glossa along the square panel, slow and calculated, it sent a raw heat up Froid’s spine. Froid noted the care Sunder took with his teeth, considering the mech he’d come to know inside and out had an affixation for oral stimulants.

“I remember when you used to attempt to bite my panels.” Froid said with a chuckle. “You’ve certainly come a long way, haven’t you? So much more well behaved.” He reached out an arm to the dish on Sunder’s head, tracing his spindly fingers along the rim. Froid heard the mech’s breath stutter, his glossa lavishing a touch more desperate. A silent thank you.

Sunder’s face plate brushed against Froid’s thigh as he moved his helm, and a zing of charge went up Froid’s leg. He hadn’t realized how much he was really being affected. Sunder pressed his derma to the rotator of Froid’s hip, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses at the junctions of metal. Froid hummed in appreciation, the change of attention was welcome. He felt his wires heating up in a warm glow.

“Touch.” Sunder’s breath condensed wet against Froid’s inner thigh. “I want to touch.” 

Froid’s pede urged Sunder at his back, disturbing the cuffs on his partner’s servos. He pressed him in closer, a reminder of their current situation. “My dear, that’s something you must earn.”

Sunder whined high and reedy, practically nuzzling into Froid’s heat. He returned to his previous ministrations, knowing if he’d be able to wind Froid up good and proper he’d be rewarded. Sunder licked stripes against one of the thick borders of Froid’s panels, which was doing him a great service. Froid let his helm fall back against the berth, allowing himself to unravel in the building motion. Sunder’s glossa weaved between the slats across Froid’s groin, as the mech focused his attention there Froid did his best to suppress a shudder.

Froid’s fans were running on overdrive, his HUD worrying over core temp, practically begging to open his array. Froid dismissed all these thoughts. Sunder’s denta scraped lightly against the middle of his panels, making Froid suck in a sharp vent. “Are you asking to be punished for misbehaving?” Froid sat back up, grabbing just a touch too rough onto the antenna of Sunder’s dish and yanking him up to optic level.

Sunder’s vacant sockets gave him a sorry look, drool shining down the mech’s chin. “No, Master, of course not…” Froid couldn’t help but stare at the way Sunder’s glossa trailed across his crooked denta. “I just want to hear your noises. Give me sight and I’ll gladly watch you writhe. I know how you clench your servos when I suck on your rotator cuffs.” 

Froid scowled at his pet, tutting him before drawing their faces close. Had Froid a mouth, he may have bit at Sunder’s disgusting derma. “You fail to see the point of this… experiment, dear spark.” Sunder’s expression wrenched in anguish, no doubt from Froid’s rough handling on his sensitive antenna. “I don’t subject you to sensory deprivation for the enjoyment of it, I take these things away to observe a mech’s primal urges. His most basic instincts driving him forward.” Froid idly traced a digit along the wire, watching Sunder bite deep into his derma. 

“Please.” His pet whined, lewdly sucking up at the collected solvent on his jaw.

Froid’s hand stilled, moving to sit on the mech’s broad shoulder pauldron. “If we as Cybertronians don’t have need to sexually reproduce, why do we still experience these urges? You lack your vision, if you were any other organic lifeform you’d be at serious risk of being eaten alive.”

“Spare me your scholarly thesis, Froid.” 

“Then get back to your oral, and spare me with the flair.” Froid almost appreciated the impatience, but he still felt a bit fed up at having been interrupted during his pontificating. Sunder lowered himself back to his position and wasted no time in working Froid up. Froid felt his frustrations melt away under the work that glossa was doing for him. He could feel the flexible member pressing deep against the panel seams, the pressure on his array housing was almost enough to drive him mad.

Froid shifted on the berth, his spinal column arching ever so. “Very nice. Where _did_ you learn how to use that glossa of yours.” Froid didn’t want to believe these sessions manifested from his own lack of an intake pipe, but it was a point he liked to dwell upon. Sunder took pause, panting hot air on the path of oral solvent he’d left, and Froid could practically feel his array pulsing with heat. Sunder pressed his glossa flat again, giving an agonizingly slow drag up the length of the panel. Froid watched as Sunder’s optic lids flitted about, as if he were searching for his master in the blind darkness. Froid failed to hold back a nakedly desperate noise.

He silenced several more queries about opening his array housing from his HUD. Sunder moved further up, hovering over the knob connecting his pelvis to his abdomen. A few moments passed, Froid was about to ask what was taking him before he felt the mech press a kiss against it. The motion was so gentle and chaste it nearly blew Froid away until his pet started lavishing that, too, with his intake. 

Froid’s servos gripped the berth. He could feel sparks of energy threading between Sunder’s glossa and his frame, leaving his nerves charged and burning. His hips shimmied on their spot, craving attention back where it should belong.

“Nn, yes that’s a good pet…” Froid let out a rough exvent with a shiver. “You’re doing so well.”

Sunder, almost reading his mind, trailed his intake south. Each suck and flick sending more arcs of electricity across Froid’s frame. “Open up, Master,” Sunder quietly urged him, “you’re practically trembling.” Froid, again, tried to start his vocoder before the mech’s dastardly glossa wriggled against a spot just right to leave his voice devolving into static.

Sure enough, Froid could feel his frame gently quiver with the amount of energy he was exerting to keep his sexual urges at bay. He felt a fat bead of solvent roll down the front of his panel as Sunder sat there drooling, thick puffs of his exvents steamed on Froid’s pelvis. Sunder sucked on his denta before a grin split his face. “Aren’t you curious what my glossa could do if you’d _pop open_ for me?”

A sudden high, quick transformation noise occurred, and Froid was uncomfortably aware the amount of fluid that spilled out of his exposed array. His biolights burned hot white, built up against his better wishes. Sunder’s expression was mildly surprised, finials training for the noise at the realization, and his optic lids widened. “Well, I suppose my body simply won’t hold out any longer…” Froid mused, his optic gathering a mischievous glint. “You wouldn’t want to finish the job you’ve started now, would you?”


End file.
